No More Blood
by probablynever
Summary: After witnessing the tragic and untimely death of Johnny, Dally becomes determined to end his own life. Unfortunately, Ponyboy won't stop bothering him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Also, any themes that are similar to those in other fanfictions is purely coincidental.

A/N: Hey. I've never written for this fandom before, but I've been a huge fan of the novel, the film, and other people's fanfictions for a long time. As for my fic, it starts out pretty angsty, but it ends in hurt/comfort. Thanks so much for reading it, though. I really appreciate it. :)

* * *

It felt like the world was falling to pieces around him. His eyes were blurry with tears. He grabbed Johnny's hand. It felt like ice. "Damnit, Johnny," Dally pleaded. "Come on, Johnny. Don't die."

Johnny lay on the bed in front of him. His burns and charred skin stood out harshly against the sanitary whiteness of the hospital room, but he was so pale. And he wasn't breathing.

Dally knew that Johnny was dead. It was the only thing in the world that he could comprehend at that moment. Ponyboy, the nurses walking around outside the room, and all of his friends back home were off in some faraway land. Only Dally and the corpse of Johnny, the only person that he'd ever really given a shit about, remained there.

He still couldn't prevent himself from pleading for Johnny to live, though it was, of course, completely in vain. He was barely even paying attention to his own words at that point. Finally, he went silent.

He stared at Johnny's face, memorizing every burn, scar, and feature. He knew that in all probability he would never see him again. He felt a tear stream down his cheek.

He heard a soft choking sound. He shook his head, almost forgetting where he was for a moment. He finally looked away from Johnny, remembering that Ponyboy was there. Of course, Ponyboy was in tears by now. He stood there gawking at Johnny, trying to contain soft sobs. He appeared to be in a similar state of shock as Dally. If Dally didn't hate everything right then (more than he usually hated everything), he might have felt sympathetic.

Dally stood up and staggered down the hallway, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but there. He felt for his gun. He didn't have any bullets, but he did have a plan.

He stood out in the parking lot, the wind and rain blowing madly around him. Some asshole doctor approached him. "You're not allowed here," the doctor said, like a typical high-society bag of dicks. Some soc's dad, probably. Either way, he was just another shitty doctor that had failed Johnny.

Dally pulled out his heater and pointed it at the doctor. "I'm allowed anywhere I want," Dally said, tears now freely streaming down his face.

The doctor's eyes went wide with panic and he hurried back into the building. Dally continued to tearfully yell at him for a moment before giving up. He had other matters to attend to. Wiping his eyes, he turned and began walking away from the hospital.

"Wait! Dally!" Dally turned around out of reflex. Ponyboy was sprinting towards him. In spite of the awful condition he was in, he could still run, though he had a slight limp in his step.

Dally glared at him. The last thing he needed to deal with was some whiny kid. "The fuck do _you_ want?" he demanded.

Ponyboy flinched. He still looked stunned. "I'm sorry... I... I guess I'm just not sure what to say," Ponyboy said. He stopped speaking, staring blankly at Dally. Usually, Ponyboy seemed a bit afraid of him, but right then he looked more like a particularly strung out heroin addict. In his current state, he could barely keep himself upright, let alone carry on a conversation. He must've still been in shock due to what had occurred.

Again, Dally almost felt sorry for him. He was a bloody mess and he looked to be on the verge of passing out. In addition to Johnny's death, the fight with the soc's seemed to have taken a lot out of him. Not to mention the malnourishment Ponyboy was probably suffering from. Dally considered trying to help Ponyboy get home before he dismissed the idea. "I don't have time for this shit," he said. He turned and began jogging briskly away.

The cool night air swirled around him. Leaves rustled under his feet. It would all end for him soon. He might as well take it in.

As he ran, he thought briefly about Ponyboy. It had been a terrible idea to even give him a second glance. Any interaction he had could talk him out of his plan. Dally shook his head. It didn't matter. Nothing could stop him. He was going to die tonight.

He stopped running for a moment. Panting slightly, he steadied himself on a tree, scanning the area. He was on West Slaten Avenue. There were some run-down houses, a daycare center and convenience/liquor store called "Ray's". That was as good a place as any, Dally decided. With blind determination, he began walking straight towards the convenience store.

* * *

"Dal, please! Wait!" A familiar voice called from not far behind him. Dally continued walking, pointedly ignoring Ponyboy, though he was somewhat impressed that Ponyboy had managed to keep up with him in the state that he was in.

They were approaching the parking lot. Ponyboy panted. He struggled to keep up with Dally, but he didn't stop moving. Dally didn't pause either, but he was growing somewhat concerned for his plans. His greatest desire was to be with Johnny. That meant that he wished to die. However, he didn't necessarily want Ponyboy to be around to see it. For both of their sakes.

His plan was simple. Pull the gun out on the cashier, demand the money, and run out. Then the cops show up, he pulls the gun on them, and then it's over. But here Ponyboy was. He considered resorting to violence with him just to get him to go away, but he was too tired. More than that, Dally could never bring himself to hurt Ponyboy like that. He could be violent with many people, but not Ponyboy or Johnny.

Still, Dally decided it didn't make a difference whether or not Ponyboy saw him die. Ponyboy had already been scarred for life by the deaths of his parents and best friend. The death of an old greaser asshole like Dally would probably be the least traumatizing thing that Ponyboy would have to deal with.

He didn't turn around or acknowledge Ponyboy. He simply continued to walk.

"Dal, wait. Please," Ponyboy said for the hundredth time, sounding like he was on the verge of tears again. It was different somehow, though. He had the same desperate pleading tone to his voice that Dally'd had back in the hospital room with Johnny.

That caused Dally to pause for a moment. He stopped walking. His heart fluttered slightly. He wasn't sure what emotion he was experiencing.

He tried his best to transfer all of his emotions into rage. He turned around to face Ponyboy.

"I'm warning you, kid. You keep doing this, and I'm going to hurt you. Fuck. Off," Dally said, somewhat menacingly.

Ponyboy continued to stand there, staring blankly ahead of him. Dally, again, felt himself waver between sympathy and rage.

"Didn't you hear me? I told you to to fuck off!" Dally said, raising his voice slightly.

Ponyboy stared at the ground. He looked like a ghost. He was so white, but he was covered in cuts and bruises. Dally felt a twinge of guilt for yelling at him.

They were both silent for a moment. Finally, Ponyboy said, "I just don't want you to kill yourself."

Dally felt a lump grow in his throat. Was he really that obvious? Was Ponyboy suddenly psychic or something? He hadn't even really thought of his "plan" in those terms. He thought of it more as "inspiring others to kill him". It was different. Regardless, he felt himself softening.

"What the hell do you know?" Dally said. He couldn't muster up the anger anymore, though. "I ain't gonna kill myself. Where'd you get that idea?"

Ponyboy seemed to be coming to his senses slightly. He looked at the ground. "Shoot, I dunno. I just had a feeling. Besides... that's kinda how I feel right now."

Dally remained silent. If he was going to go through with his "assisted suicide" plan, it would have to be soon. Every second that he spent with Ponyboy was chipping away at his armor.

Still, in spite of everything that he'd been through, talking to Ponyboy almost did seem somewhat... nice. The loss of Johnny still affected him immensely. It was unbearable. It felt like he'd lost a part of himself.

But here Ponyboy was, anyway. It made some difference somehow.

In spite of his violence and criminal record, he'd always had a soft spot for innocence. Ponyboy was innocence personified. Dally had loved Johnny so much, but some part of him also loved Ponyboy just as much. It went without saying that he wasn't the sort of person who liked sappiness, but Ponyboy sort of tugged at his nonexistent heart strings. Ponyboy was just a kid, but he was smart and sensitive and he had to deal with a lot of shit. What he felt for Ponyboy was different than what he'd felt for Johnny, but it was there and it was just as strong.

Dally had always assumed that Ponyboy didn't need him, though. Other than the gang, Johnny had no one. His home life was abusive and generally horrific. Ponyboy had two loving older brothers. And Ponyboy was generally just quiet, analytical, and intelligent, whereas Johnny was depressed and suicidal. Thus, Dally had never felt the need to really "protect" Ponyboy.

Still, all during the past week or so he'd seen just how vulnerable Ponyboy could be. Dally had been legitimately worried about Ponyboy's health when he shown up at Buck's drenched in water from the fountain. His heart had sunk when he thought that he'd accidentally killed Ponyboy at the scene of the fire.

Now, Ponyboy was being all clingy. Dally didn't know what to make of anything anymore. He guessed that maybe he and Ponyboy had just grown attached to one another.

Ponyboy looked up at him with watery eyes. "Please. I'm sorry, Dally. This is all my fault. If anyone should go, it should be me." Tears poured down Ponyboy's face.

That surprised Dally somewhat. He bit his lip, unsure of how to react. It was painful to hear Ponyboy say that. He honestly hadn't made the connection that Ponyboy would feel guilty for what had happened. The idea that Ponyboy would take the blame for everything that happened, in spite of it all being completely out out of his control, tore at Dally. "Glory. Don't you dare say that, kid."

Ponyboy stared at the ground. "But it's the truth. I caused everything. I... _I_ should die. Not you, Dally."

Dally felt a lump grow in his throat. What a fucking night. He couldn't help himself anymore. He put his arms around Ponyboy.

Dally would never stand in the middle of a parking lot and hug someone if he was in a better state of mind. He felt like they'd earned it, though. Both of them had been through Hell. "Hey kid," Dally whispered, his own voice cracking slightly. "Don't you ever say shit like that. You're just a kid, Pony. It ain't your fault. You ain't done nothin' wrong."

"Yes, I have. I'm so sorry," Ponyboy said, sobbing softly into Dally's shoulder. "I just as much killed Bob as Johnny did. Johnny was my best f-friend and... and I'm so sorry. But you can't die too, Dally!" He was shaking. He felt so thin in Dally's arms.

Dally felt his heart ache slightly. He'd never seen Ponyboy cry like this. Obviously, Ponyboy tried to be tough around him. Dally never really considered it, but he supposed that everyone in their gang put up some façade for the sake of morale or looking tough. "Hey, come on, kid. I ain't gonna die and neither are you. Take it easy. It's gonna be okay."

Ponyboy didn't say anything more. He just sniffled and kept his head buried in Dally's shoulder. Dally gingerly stroked at Ponyboy's hair, trying to get him to stop crying.

Dally knew then that he had to decide which path to take right then. He could either rob the convenience store and die or he could take Ponyboy home and try to recover from everything that had happened. In spite of the tenderness he was sharing with Ponyboy, he still had that itch in the back of his mind, and there was still that emptiness. Life would be so hard without Johnny, and Ponyboy didn't really require any further assistance. Dally could just set him up somewhere and go about getting himself killed.

But Ponyboy seemed so sad about it. The poor kid seemed like he was doing everything in his power to get Dally to not kill himself. Maybe the world wasn't all terrible. Maybe there was still some hope.

Suddenly, Ponyboy went limp in his arms. Dally only barely caught him before he fell. Dally held him up and examined his face. Ponyboy was out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I really can't thank you guys enough for leaving me such thoughtful reviews and stuff. It's very much appreciated. I'll definitely be continuing this story. :)

* * *

"Aw, damnit. Come on, Pony. Wake up," Dally said, still holding Ponyboy in place.

It was beginning to rain again. He hadn't realized that it had stopped. Cold raindrops fell on them and the wind was still wild, but Dally wasn't concerned about it. At the moment, he was solely focused on Ponyboy.

He really hadn't been prepared for Ponyboy to just black out on him. He wasn't surprised that it had happened. He just had no idea what to do about it. Though Dally was quite well-versed in patching himself and others up after fights, he had little experience with trying to revive unconscious people. On the off chance that someone did pass out around Dally, he was usually inclined to simply ignore them and let someone else handle it, or he'd pickpocket them. Or he would possibly kick them. It had never happened to someone that he knew well and had been talking to seconds before. Dally felt somewhat overwhelmed. At the moment, he barely felt capable of taking care of himself, let alone Ponyboy, who he knew desperately needed to be home in bed. Dally was surprised Darry had even let him out in that state.

He carefully laid Ponyboy down on the ground and kneeled down next to him. Ponyboy let out soft respirations in response, relieving Dally of some of his worries. At least Ponyboy was breathing.

Dally sighed, feeling awkward and frustrated. "Well, now what am I supposed to do with you?" He asked softly, more to himself than Ponyboy. He lightly shook Ponyboy, not wanting to hurt him. "Hey idiot, come on. Wake up," he said, with more bass in his voice.

Ponyboy still didn't react. Though he wasn't actually angry with him, Dally glared at him. "I said, wake the fuck up!" he shouted, shaking Ponyboy a bit more aggressively. Nothing. Ponyboy didn't respond at all. Dally sighed again. This was the worst night of his life. Of course, it had already been the worst night of his life long before Ponyboy passed out. This was just a minor inconvenience compared to everything else.

Just to reassure himself, he checked Ponyboy's pulse. It was fine, but heat seemed to be radiating off of Ponyboy. Dally placed the back of his hand on Ponyboy's forehead. He had a burning fever. Dally wondered how long he'd had a fever like that. It made him cringe slightly to think of him fighting the soc's when he was that sick.

The similarity between Johnny's corpse and Ponyboy's unconscious body made Dally feel somewhat uncomfortable. Ponyboy looked so peaceful, just like Johnny had. Unlike Johnny, though, Ponyboy wasn't pale. His complexion was just flushed and sickly. He wasn't covered in horrific third-degree burns either, rather just the sporadic cuts and bruises that were the typical results of a rumble. Dally felt the need to remind himself of the differences between the living and the deceased right then.

Ponyboy shifted a bit on the ground and mumbled something incoherent, but he didn't open his eyes. Rain ran down Ponyboy's face, and he didn't even flinch. Dally absentmindedly ran his fingers through Ponyboy's hair. It was still that stupid shade of blond. Dally thought that it was kind of cute, although Ponyboy clearly hated it.

Dally glanced at the convenience store one last time. He considered asking if they had a phone, but he didn't think that he was capable of entering the store without going through with his suicide mission. It was all very black and white to him.

He didn't have much in the way of morals, but it felt like to off himself right then would be a betrayal to Ponyboy. Ponyboy had been so tragically determined to stop him and now he couldn't even argue with Dally about it. The least Dally could do for him was get him home. Besides, Ponyboy was so vulnerable. Anything could happen to him if Dally just left him there. Dally simply didn't have it in him to just abandon him like that. He could go about swallowing a bullet some other time, after Ponyboy was awake and feeling better. Still, it wouldn't be the same as if his plan had actually succeeded that night. It would have been perfect.

For the first time that night, Dally thought about how different things would have been if he'd had bullets. He probably would have just shot himself outside of the hospital. Dally wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or spiteful about the lack of bullets. He felt the same way about Ponyboy at the moment, unsure of whether or not to feel thankful about his presence.

He hated thinking and feeling, anyway. Before this night, it had been so simple to just shut his brain off. Maybe that had been why he'd wanted to die.

Ponyboy shivered slightly. He needed to get Ponyboy home, that was all that was important at the moment. Dally suddenly wished that he hadn't left Buck's car at the hospital. He considered going back for it, but then he spotted a beaten-up Ford pickup truck parked down the road. He supposed that it would have to do.

* * *

Sighing, he placed one hand under Pony's legs and the other under his back, picking him up. The back on his clothes were damp from the rain-soaked grass, and he felt considerably lighter than he should have. Carrying Ponyboy felt somewhat strange and awkward, but Dally didn't care. It was probably about 1:00 am anyway. Everyone outside at that hour was insane. With Ponyboy in his arms, he began walking away from the convenience store and towards the truck.

Ponyboy jerked slightly. "Dally," he mumbled.

Dally bit his lip, feeling himself go soft again. There was something indistinctly endearing about Ponyboy saying his name in his sleep.

"Hey, hey. Just relax, all right? I just gotta hotwire this truck real quick," Dally said.

Though Dally was well aware that he couldn't show concern for Ponyboy indiscriminately, for several reasons, it was beginning to occur to him that he somewhat enjoyed taking care of Ponyboy. The idea that he liked the intimacy worried him considerably, but he couldn't help it. There was something genuinely calming about being close to Ponyboy right then, and trying to help Ponyboy deal with his grief was a good distraction from his own. How could he even begin to think about Johnny when he was taking care of someone else, particularly someone who was essentially dead weight right then?

They reached the vehicle. Dally propped Ponyboy up against a tree.

For the trillionth time in Dally's life, he felt thankful that the cops never bothered to patrol the bad side of town. He easily swung open the passenger-side door. He was both grateful and disappointed that he hadn't needed to bust the window.

He yawned and picked Ponyboy up again, dragging him onto the passenger seat. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. Everything had happened so rapidly that now it almost felt like things were going in slow-motion. Dally half-worried that he might pass out too. He tried to focus himself. At least he had a goal.

He buckled Ponyboy's seatbelt, just to keep him from sliding onto the floor. Then, he went about the usual routine of hotwiring the vehicle, sparking the wires.

The truck roared to life and Dally began driving. He drove relatively slowly for once, not wanting to jostle Ponyboy all over the place. They weren't too far from Ponyboy's house, luckily. In spite of Dally's sudden drowsiness, or perhaps because of it, he found the drive somewhat serene, a relief from everything that had occurred earlier that evening. It was quiet, aside from the regular bumps that were to be expected from an old vehicle. The rain outside was muffled, though it still streamed across the windows. Dally sighed, wishing he had a cigarette. He navigated the truck down the usual path towards the Curtis house.

"Dally, why did you die?" Ponyboy suddenly asked. Dally nearly lost control of the wheel. Had he been drinking something, he would have spat it out in shock. He quickly regained control of the vehicle, hitting the brakes. He stopped the truck in the middle of an empty street.

Shit. _Was_ he dead? Was this Hell? Maybe he _had_ killed himself and he simply didn't remember doing it. For a second, Dally swore he saw a demonic-looking shadow on a tree. He gazed around at the neighborhood. It was just a typical street in the poor side of town, lined with neglected houses, chain link fences, and overgrown plants. It didn't look like Hell, but, then again, maybe it did. Who knew? Maybe they were all dead, and Johnny was alive now. Maybe Tulsa, Oklahoma was Purgatory or something. It made sense. It _was_ kind of a shit-hole.

He looked at Ponyboy. He still looked so out of it. Dally felt like a moron for even taking anything he said into consideration. He was obviously just delirious. Ponyboy's voice was dreamy and distant, the way people always talked when they were asleep. At the same time, though, he had sounded so sincere and sad.

Dally didn't say anything. He simply continued to drive. They were just reaching the Curtis residence, finally.

"Am I dead?" Ponyboy asked, in the same tone as before. Dally wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or scold Ponyboy for being so cryptic. It didn't really matter, anyway. Obviously, Ponyboy wouldn't hear it. He settled on stroking Ponyboy's hair.

"Of course you're not. You're just real sick. Don't worry, you're almost home," Dally said, his voice slightly shaky, but still gentle.

Dally parked the car a slight distance away from the house. Even from there, he could see that all the lights were on. He hated the idea of facing anyone else in his gang aside from Ponyboy right then. Dally didn't feel like he had it in him to break the news to them about Johnny's death. Besides, Soda and Darry would probably want to kill Dally. He knew that they were most likely worried sick about Ponyboy. It would all take far too much explanation.

Dally had conflicted emotions about the way things had turned out. He felt somewhat like a coward. He _should_ be dead. If Ponyboy simply hadn't followed him, everything would have gone according to plan. He would be in the morgue with Johnny, rather than going through all this effort, trying to care for someone he wasn't capable of caring for. And how the hell would he ever speak to anyone he knew ever again? What if Ponyboy told someone about everything that happened? More importantly, why did Dally give a shit? Again, he felt like it all would have been so much easier if he had died.

He sighed and got out of the car. He ran around to the other side and dragged Ponyboy out. He wasn't sure that he had the strength to carry him all the way to the house, but he managed to pick him up again.

"I love you, Dally," Ponyboy mumbled.

Dally felt his heart flutter again. He couldn't remember the last time someone had said that to him, though he knew better than to take anything Ponyboy said right then into account. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to think about it or respond. Two Bit suddenly came out of the house. He walked towards them.

Two Bit looked at them so seriously, his eyes wide. It would have seemed strange to Dally to see him look so genuinely somber, but everything had been pretty out of the ordinary that night.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to Pony?" Two Bit asked, his voice just as serious as the expression on his face. "Where the hell have you guys been? Darry and Soda have been goin' nuts. They're out lookin' for you guys."

"Johnny's dead," Dally said curtly. It physically hurt him to say Johnny's name. "The kid passed out. Take him."

Two Bit gave him a shocked expression. "Oh my God, no. Johnny... Is Ponyboy okay? Hell, are _you_ okay, Dally? You guys look like you been in a war, rather than a rumble."

For some reason, Dally felt himself beginning to grow frustrated. "Look, just take the kid, all right?"

Two Bit stared at him blankly. Dally changed his mind. He laid Ponyboy on the ground next to Two Bit.

Before Two Bit could say anything else, Dally got back in the truck. He didn't look back at them. He quickly drove away from the house.


	3. Chapter 3

It was daytime. Normally, Ponyboy would have been in school. If it was the weekend, he would have been in the vacant lot with Johnny, or playing football, or something. Something had changed, though.

A heavy fog hung in the air, obscuring everything. It was the kind of mist that no one should attempt to drive in. Ponyboy stared out the window. Outside looked like a blank emptiness. He could see nothing but white, in spite of how much he strained his eyes, trying to make out houses and people. The mist was a vast impenetrable void. He took a long drag off of a cigarette.

Inside the house, all Ponyboy could hear, aside from his own breaths, were the constant ticks of the clock in the kitchen. When he'd turned on the small, bunny-eared television set, he had only received a disconcerting static. He'd played with the antenna for a moment before giving up and switching it off. The set had been on its last legs for awhile, and Ponyboy decided that it wasn't worth the bother of messing with. The radio was in a similar state of disrepair. He remembered Two-Bit accidentally breaking it when he'd put his feet up on the table and knocked it over. That had been pretty funny. Now, Ponyboy was alone, though; with the mist outside and the clock.

His brothers were at work, he guessed, but he was worried about them. Sometime around 8:00 am, he had simply woken up alone, without Soda sleeping next to him, and without the usual bustle of his brothers getting ready for work. There had been no note on the counter or any indication of where anyone was. Ponyboy had tried calling the gas station where Soda worked a couple of times, but no one answered. He couldn't remember the number to the office Darry checked in at for his roofing job. Darry had written it down, but it had probably gotten thrown away or shoved into a pile of paperwork. Besides, Darry was usually off roofing a house, rather than hanging around the office. Ponyboy couldn't imagine anyone working on a rooftop with the mist like it was, though. He wondered if there had been some kind of emergency.

The rest of the gang were nowhere to be seen either. Two-Bit had never stopped by for cake and Mickey Mouse cartoons, Steve hadn't made passive-aggressive comments about how he hated having Ponyboy around, Johnny wasn't there providing friendship and easy conversation, and Dally didn't hang around being an intimidating enigma. There had only been silence, worry and that creeping sense of off-ness. For some reason, Ponyboy was particularly concerned about Dally and Johnny. He couldn't remember why, but he sensed that they were in some kind of danger.

It had occurred to him that everyone might just be playing some kind of elaborate practical joke on him, but that didn't seem possible. The entire gang couldn't just disappear simply to screw with him. They wouldn't.

At the risk of feeling like a fool, Ponyboy had searched for his brothers and friends several times, calling out their names over and over again, his voice echoing in the empty rooms. His house wasn't nearly large enough for people to really hide in, but he had to see if _someone_ was there.

After he was done stupidly looking around his house for people that weren't there, he had decided to rest for a moment on the couch and stare out the window. That's where he was now, sitting uselessly and looking at nothing. He stubbed out out his cigarette in the ashtray. The clock continued to dutifully count down minutes to nothing. In the silence of the small house, the ticking of the clock seemed to pound in his mind.

In spite of how ominous it was, the whiteness outside was beginning to seem inviting. It almost seemed to call to him. He considered leaving the house, searching around town for his friends. It couldn't be worse than sitting around and waiting. He wanted very badly to see someone that he knew and cared about. Everyone in the gang was individually important to him and just talking to one of them would have made the silence and fog so much easier to cope with. The loneliness was beginning to become maddening. He decided that he _had_ to leave.

As soon as he stood up, though, the phone rang, causing Ponyboy to jump. He jogged across the room and answered it. "Hello?" he said, somewhat frantically.

"Ponyboy? I have a message for you."

Ponyboy didn't recognize the voice. It was definitely a man, but he didn't sound like anyone that Ponyboy knew."Wh-who is this? Soda, is that you?" Ponyboy asked in a shaky voice.

"Look in the closet."

The line went dead. For a moment, Ponyboy just stood there. He hung up the phone. It occurred to him that the clock had stopped ticking. A chill ran up his spine.

Ponyboy weighed his options. What could be in the closet? Why should he trust some creepy stranger like that? Then again, the person hadn't necessarily sounded malevolent. The voice was more neutral or detached, like a doctor who had to give a patient bad news. Or perhaps this was all part of that joke he thought that everyone might be playing on him. Maybe his friends would all jump out of the closet and yell "surprise!"? Probably not, but it was possible. Ponyboy didn't have much else to go on at this point.

After taking on last look at the mist through the living room window, he walked into the bedroom. He stared at the closet door. After taking a deep breath, he swung the door open. He sighed, feeling a tiny bit relieved, but mostly disappointed. The closet was empty. There was nothing in there but old clothes. Ponyboy sighed and began walking away, feeling even more like someone was messing with him. He felt dumb for even listening to whoever had been on the phone. Then, suddenly someone's arm reached out of the closet and pulled Ponyboy inside.

Ponyboy gasped, nearly falling over. He looked around the room with horror. Now, he was inside a burning building. It was a definite contrast from the emptiness of where he'd been, but it certainly wasn't preferable. The stillness had simply been replaced with fire. The stranger must have had malicious intent, after all.

It vaguely occurred to him that the building was an old church. There were several benches all uniformly facing in one direction, and the roof was sloped. Everything was on fire, though. Embers fell from the ceiling, ash raining down on Ponyboy. Things shook and crashed all around him, and the room seemed infinitely long and black. There seemed to be an infinite number of rows of pews, somewhat widely set apart from each other. The wood burned like flesh, charring into red, yellow, and black third-degree burns, which almost appeared to seep mucus. Ponyboy ran straight down the aisle, dodging flames. His lungs filled with smoke, his eyes blurring from the intense heat. Sweat dripped down his forehead. After approximately 60 rows of benches, he rested, panting. Smoke continued to pour into his lungs, making him feel like he was drowning. He doubled over at the waist, beginning to painfully cough.

He stopped when he heard something. Someone was screaming. It sounded like Johnny. Ear-piercing shrieks of pain and agony seemed to emanate from every corner of the church. At first, it had been almost imperceptible. Now, Johnny's screams were deafening. It was the most hopeless, terrifying sound that Ponyboy had ever heard. It pounded into his head a million times worse than the clock had, beating against his skull, like a drill against a tooth.

"Oh God, Johnny! Just stay there! I'll find you!" Ponyboy weakly shouted, barely able to breathe through the haze of smoke. He staggered around the room once more, desperately trying to find his friend amid the insanity. Johnny's screams seemed just as infinite as the pews, and Ponyboy never seemed to get any closer to him.

Eventually, he saw someone silhouetted against the fire. Ponyboy ran as fast as he could until he reached them. It was Dally. He was just standing there... staring at nothing. He must have been there looking for Johnny too, before realizing that it was hopeless. Dally's pale skin glowed from the fire reflecting off of it. Ponyboy realized that he thought Dally was beautiful in a way. There _was_ something very gallant about him, how he cared about others but never made a big deal about it. He was wild and unpredictable, but you could depend on him when it mattered. He looked more like a _Gone with the Wind_ character than ever right then; the way he just stood there, emotionlessly resigning himself to death. Ponyboy recalled wanting to sketch Dally many times before, but never being able to. He almost wished that he could right then.

Ponyboy shook his head, realizing that he'd become slightly transfixed. What was important was that he'd finally found someone and that they needed to leave the church.

"Dally, we gotta get out of here," he said. Out of instinct, he reached out and touched Dally's shoulder.

Dally fell to the floor. He was dead. Blood soaked through his shirt. His eyes were black and devoid of anything. Ponyboy couldn't stop himself from staring, in spite of how much he tried not to. He fell to his knees beside Dally, tears leaking out of His eyes. He spotted a piece of paper crumpled up in Dally's hand. His own hands now shaking violently, Ponyboy took the scrap of paper, opening it up.

 _"It should have been you."_

Ponyboy suddenly knew exactly what that meant. The words replaced the screams, reverberating off the benches, eating at Ponyboy's soul. "It should have been you. It should have been you." It was a cold, droning mantra.

Ponyboy didn't want to bother anymore. He walked into the fire.

* * *

"No!" Ponyboy shouted. He sat up, panting, his eyes wide open. The words continued to ring in his head, but he was no longer in the church. He'd almost expected to still be surrounded by fire. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. He was home, in his and Soda's bed.

"Hey Pony," a soft, familiar voice said. They wrapped their arms around him, drawing him into a soft embrace. Ponyboy flinched, then quickly relaxed. It was Soda, of course. He sighed, burying his face into his brother's chest, a tear falling down his cheek. He still felt like he was in a state of shock.

"Oh honey, you were just havin' a bad dream. You're okay now," Soda crooned.

Ponyboy shivered. He was still reeling from his nightmare. Normally, he never remembered his dreams, but this one had been so vivid. It had seemed too drawn-out, like something that could only be experienced during some kind of prolonged sleep. He thought about describing it to Soda, but he changed his mind. It was best not to dwell on it. Also, even though Ponyboy always felt calm and content around Soda, he was vaguely aware of the concept that people hated hearing about other people's dreams. That was understandable. What was there to say? It had all just been some way for his subconscious to cope with things (albeit while simultaneously torturing him). It didn't hold any relevance because it was all just one big illusion. Nothing more. Nonetheless, it still felt strange to have a dream that he could remember, and the church had been so much like the one in Windrixville. The harsh sentiment of the dream stuck with him the most, of course. It would have destroyed Ponyboy if anyone he cared about agreed with it, particularly Dally, for some reason. The note had been in Dally's hand, of course, so maybe he really did blame Ponyboy. That was a dumb way of thinking, though. That's why it was stupid to look for symbolism in nightmares.

Ponyboy breathed in Soda's scent, felt Soda's heart beating against his own. _This_ was reality. He knew that it wouldn't last, but he felt some sense of peace, like he always did when Soda held him. Soda stroked Ponyboy's back soothingly. He was so perfect and real and alive and non-judgmental. Ponyboy sometimes felt like he didn't deserve him, and it terrified Ponyboy to imagine losing Soda. He knew that he'd been reminded of people's mortality too many times for someone his age. The fleeting nature of life, and of people in general, could be so scary. Ponyboy was also beginning to wonder if he somehow attracted tragedy.

He had felt guilt when his parents had died, but he'd known that that wasn't his fault. He hadn't been present, or seen their bodies. With Johnny and Dally, he was beginning to feel like he had destroyed and ended lives solely by being a senseless idiot. The weight of it all was starting to hit him.

Another part of him felt guilty for completely blaming himself, though. It would probably make Soda sad if he knew Ponyboy thought that way. Besides, Ponyboy wasn't psychic. He was a stupid, _stupid_ fourteen-year-old. No one could have predicted such a chain of events. Ponyboy tried to remember what the doctor had told him; that dreams were the mind's way of adapting to potentially scary situations. The accusation in his dream was there to help prepare him for the chance of someone saying something to that affect in real life. It had only caused him to be fearful of things he'd barely had a chance to contemplate, though.

He didn't come from a particularly spiritual family, but he'd heard of the dead talking to people in dreams. Maybe that had been Johnny's way of communicating. That was another stupid way to put too much thought into a dream.

The memories of that terrible night were returning to him. He remembered Johnny in the hospital, dying. The image of his best friend lying there would never leave his mind, he knew. The same was true for what Johnny had told him right before he'd died. "Stay gold". Those had been his dying words. It tore at him to think about it, but Ponyboy didn't even know what he'd meant. He wondered how it applied to him, and to Dally.

He still didn't know when or why Dally had become so important to him. He guessed that it was mostly due to the recent shared experiences. He knew there was more to it than that, though. Dally was a constant figure in his life, like most of the gang, and he commanded respect, but that wasn't really what drew Ponyboy to him. He had never really thought about it before, but he suddenly realized that he'd always really wanted Dally to like him. There had always been something exhilarating about being with him. It was no wonder that Johnny had always idolized Dally, and Ponyboy was starting to understand what Cherry had meant about falling in love with him. Ponyboy blushed, hating himself. He tried not to think about Dally, but he couldn't stop himself.

That night, like the mist in his nightmare, Dally had just seemed to call out to him. For the first time in his life, Ponyboy had felt like he could recognize something of himself in Dally. It had seemed like something had ended inside of himself, and he could see that reflected in Dally's eyes. Ponyboy hadn't been at all sure why, but he'd really thought that Dally intended to do something which would result in his death. Anyway, he hadn't had anywhere better to go or anything else to do.

One didn't usually try to stop Dally from doing something, though. They'd end up getting their teeth knocked out. Dally hadn't done that to Ponyboy, though, probably because Darry and Soda would kill Dally if he hurt Ponyboy... Still, at the time it had felt otherworldly, having such a personal conversation like that with Dally after it seemed like everything had fallen to pieces around him. Now, he cringed slightly thinking about it. It was possible that Dally had found him irritating. Maybe Dally had just been trying to cool off and Ponyboy had simply humiliated himself. He cringed even more when he thought about being so emotional in front of Dally. There was nothing tough _or_ tuff about any of that, obviously.

He could never be as important to Dally as Johnny either. Compared to Johnny, Ponyboy was no one. Even if Dally didn't admit it, the note in his dream had said it all. "It should have been you."

It was possible that Dally was dead too, of course. After all, Ponyboy had little idea of what had happened after they'd talked. He guessed that he must have passed out and somehow ended up back home. Hell, maybe he'd passed out at the hospital and that intimacy with Dally had all been yet another fever dream.

Regardless of all of the trauma, Ponyboy knew that he would have to do _so_ much damage repair. He felt like he was behind on just about everything.

"We were so worried about you, Pony," Soda said shakily. Ponyboy felt a stab of guilt. He knew that he hadn't made things easy for his brothers. They were just two more people that he'd hurt. "We were scared you weren't ever gonna wake up. You were delirious for a week! It was killing us seeing you sick like that," Soda croaked. He was crying now. "Don't you ever do that to us again! I don't think I could take it."

"I'm so sorry, Soda. Everything just happened so fast..." Ponyboy felt tears build up slightly in his own eyes. He'd been so inconsiderate. All of the emotions he was experiencing were exhausting. The last thing he wanted to do was fall asleep again, though. Dreaming certainly wasn't something that he looked forward to doing ever again. "I didn't mean to hurt you and Darry... I know I've been so terrible..."

"Shh. I'm just so happy you're okay! S'okay, Pone. You're awake now. You're here. That's all that matters..." They finally pulled away from each other slightly and Soda gave him a tearful smile. He looked really tired, like he hadn't had adequate sleep in days. He ran his fingers through Ponyboy's hair. "You okay? You need anything?"

Ponyboy returned the smile to the best of his ability. He realized that he hadn't asked at all about Darry. The remorse returned. "No, not really, but thanks, Soda. That means a lot. Where's Darry?"

"Darry's out at the store. He'll be back soon. D'you need him right away?"

"Nah, I was just wondering..." His brothers worked so hard, and he worried more and more about Darry feeling unloved by him. He _did_ love Darry very much. He was well aware of how much Darry had sacrificed just to provide security for him, and Ponyboy wanted to cause as little of a strain on Darry's life as he could, and to make him happy and proud.

It was just difficult to manage so many things at once. There were so many people, and so much had happened. Needless to say, his relationship with Darry had suffered for it. Not that they'd had a great relationship to begin with. Ponyboy knew that he had been terribly reckless and stupid. He hadn't thought things through or used common sense, just like Darry always said that he didn't. He had been away from home for a week, unconscious for a week, and now he was terribly behind on his school work. Ponyboy felt like a terrible younger brother, and an even worse person. Come to think of it, maybe his dream had been a means of self-punishment, or maybe the mist had represented escape. Maybe if he had walked out into the mist, he would have died in real life. Again, it was stupid to analyze dreams too much. He had one more large question nagging at his brain, though, which he desperately needed the answer to. "Hey, Soda?... Where's Dally?" he timidly asked.

Soda yawned softly and draped his arm around Ponyboy's shoulder. A soft smile crossed his gorgeous face. "You asked that a lot in your sleep," Soda said.

Ponyboy instantly reddened. "I did?" he asked.

"Well, you asked for a lot of people when you were asleep..." There was a hint of sadness to Soda's voice, but he looked at Ponyboy's face and gave him a somewhat playful, lopsided grin. "What, you afraid you _just_ asked for Dally?"

Ponyboy scratched the back of his neck, an old nervous habit. He was still blushing hotly. "Well, yeah. I guess so. But I mean... he's not, like, dead, is he?"

Ponyboy felt a bit wary of talking about that. He had no idea whether or not he should disclose what happened. He had no real proof that Dally was suicidal anyway, and Dally would probably murder him if he went around telling people. If Dally was dead, which Ponyboy didn't want to consider right then, Ponyboy would probably fall into an even deeper depression and he would re-open week-long wounds of Soda's. It would also give even more veracity to his nightmare. It was the same reason he didn't want to bring up Johnny, though he knew what had happened to him, of course.

Soda's smile immediately faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Of course not... Why'd you think that?" he softly asked.

Ponyboy sighed, feeling a bit silly, but immensely relieved. "Just because I was worried he was gonna get himself shot."

Soda looked somewhat surprised, but then he shrugged. "Well, that's Dally for you. What was he doin'?"

"Nothin'... I was just worried that he _wanted_ to get himself shot."

Soda stroked Ponyboy's hair. "You ain't responsible for what _he_ does, Pone... but I think he's okay, all things considered. He stopped by a couple times. I don't know what he's doin' right now, but last I heard, he was all right."

Ponyboy knew that Soda probably wasn't telling him the whole story, but sleep was beginning to over-take him again, despite how much he wanted to be awake. "Thanks a lot, Soda. I'm so sorry," he whispered. He yawned. "Soda, can I go back to sleep?" he asked.

Soda smiled slightly again. "Sure you can, as long as you promise to wake up. I better stay up so I can help Darry with groceries, but I'll stay here with you 'til you fall asleep," he said.

Ponyboy nodded, distracted. He didn't lie down.

"Hey, Soda?"

"Yeah, Pone?" Soda softly asked.

"... What happened isn't _all_ my fault, is it?

Soda looked even more concerned. He gave Ponyboy a serious look. " _None_ of it is your fault, Pony. Don't you _ever_ think that. You couldn't have known what would happen." He glared. "If anybody tells you something like that, that it's your fault for all that shit that happened, you tell me and I'll kick their ass." Soda gave Ponyboy a protective side-hug. He didn't often swear unless he was really ecstatic or really angry. It made Ponyboy feel better to know that at least Soda still loved him unconditionally, like he loved Soda.

"Thanks, Soda. I'm sorry..."

Soda rubbed Ponyboy's arm. "Shh, stop worrying about everything. You go back to sleep now. I'll be right here."

Ponyboy sighed. He allowed his mind to drift. Eventually, he fell back to sleep.


End file.
